


Gold

by asanoyasses (Kaffee)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Grand Prix Final, Introspection, M/M, Post-Episode 10, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 18:09:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8855716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaffee/pseuds/asanoyasses
Summary: Phichit is happy for him, really he is.But that may be all the more reason for him to fight even harder for that medal.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gross and I love this ship?
> 
> I honestly don't exclusively ship Phichit with anyone in particular because he has such good dynamics for a variety of relationships. Please enjoy what is essentially a rant on how I view my best boy. He deserves the world.

A lot of things whirl behind Phichit’s eyes as his mind processes the gold rings adorning Victor and Yuuri’s fingers, but first and foremost is the absolute thrill at seeing his best friend in a committed relationship. He gasps and claps excitedly because he _is_ , he is _ecstatic_ for Yuuri; the guy was a tumult of self-consciousness throughout their time in Detroit, no history or desire to be with someone intimately. So, Phichit announces his glee to that entire restaurant on a chilly night in Barcelona, because he is happy for his friend. 

His happiness, he supposes, will be enough to shield the tremor he feels when Victor says that they intend to marry when Yuuri wins gold at the Final; when, not if, because Victor has that faith in Yuuri, knows that he is a good enough coach and emotional support for Yuuri that the younger man has the means to win gold. 

Phichit is still happy for them, but his gaze turns solid as they all leave the restaurant and he stares at the back of Yuuri’s head. Skating is a competitive sport and there are no friends when it comes down to what happens on the ice. With a declaration as bold as Victor’s, and with a love as strong as his and Yuuri’s, Phichit has no doubt that Yuuri will skate his ass off to win gold for them. It’s thrilling to see how much Yuuri has changed since Phichit last saw him before the Cup of China. Phichit almost feels as if he finally has a rival in Yuuri Katsuki. 

As their group wanders back to the hotel, Phichit finally tears his eyes away from the nape of Yuuri’s neck so that he can unlock his phone and check the notifications on his social media. He clears the red dots from the bottom tab of his Instagram and scrolls through his feed, blindly double-tapping on photos as they fly by. He lands on a dark photo that was posted about an hour earlier; two hands, glittering gold on the ring fingers. Phichit pauses for maybe too long before tapping the photo and closing out of the app. A deep hum breaks him out of his reverie. 

He looks up to where Chris is walking beside him, lips pursed but smiling lightly. He is glancing down out of the corner of his eye and Phichit is sure he saw his fingers pause on Victor’s post.  He shoves his phone back into his pocket and buries his chin into his open jacket as well as he can. 

“You know,” Chris starts, his accent thick as he speaks to Phichit in English, “I would say I’m jealous too. He has been out of my reach for years. I would kill to have what he has.” He changes his gaze back to where Yuuri and Victor are walking ahead of them, hands brushing against each other but not holding; Yuuri is probably embarrassed by the display from earlier. 

Phichit stays quiet for a moment. “It’s unnerving. I’ve known Yuuri for so long. He has never fought as hard as I’ve seen him fight since Victor came in. I feel like I may actually lose to him,” he responds quietly, eyes darting between the others in their party. It’s very unsportsmanlike for him to be thinking this, something his coach has warned him about countless times. 

Chris shrugs. “That’s normal, it’s human nature to be competitive. We only need to fight just as hard as him to get what we want.” 

Grey eyes blink against the chilled wind but Phichit has nothing else to say. He is thankfully distracted by a chime from his phone and he whips it out to see a text from Celestino. 

 _Are you on your way back? You need to rest. Big day tomorrow._  

Phichit's fingers are numb from the cold and his thoughts, but they fly across the keyboard to send back a quick, _Yes, on the way now! Big news!_ and a peace sign emoji. He taps away back to his other social media, posting a slew of selfies and landscape photos he had nabbed earlier in the evening to Twitter. 

He is still browsing his newsfeed - he allows Chris to nudge his shoulder gently when he starts straying off course -when the group comes back up to the hotel, short two as Minako and Mari had headed to their own hotel a couple blocks down from the arena. Phichit stops to observe as Victor holds the door open for Yuuri, and Otabek does the same for the smaller Yuri. Chris is heading up the steps behind them, but pauses when he notices Phichit hanging back. 

"You going to be okay?" he calls; the others are inside the hotel already and Phichit is grateful that they don't have to hear. Chris stands where he is for a moment. 

Phichit clenches his phone in his hands, nodding, then brightens and says, "Chris, take a selfie with me!" 

- 

They part ways in the elevator, Phichit stepping out onto his floor and waving goodbye as Chris heads up to his own floor. Phichit heads down the hallway while glancing at the room numbers; since this whole thing started he has carried a consistent anxiousness at returning to his hotel rooms. 

The door beeps after he rests the keycard on the pad, and he is granted entrance into a king suite. The room is big enough to be considered an apartment, he thinks, with a small kitchen area and double doors leading to a bedroom. The entire length of the opposite side of the room is windows, most of the blinds drawn except for behind the dining table, where the city lights are shining through the glass. 

Phichit sheds his coat and drops his wallet on the coffee table, but shoves his phone into his back pocket. Most of the room is dark, besides where he can see that a lamp is on in the bedroom, and one on the dining room table that reflects against the window and lights the area where Celestino is working. Phichit can hear the theme for his short program playing lightly from the tablet that is propped up on the table. 

"I may be the skater, but you need rest too, Ciao Ciao," Phichit reprimands. Celestino looks up from the pad he was jotting notes onto and smiles gently over at the boy. He glances back to the table to pause the recording of Phichit's performance in China; he has a near-empty glass of whiskey sitting beside him, as well as a couple of technique books and a sketchbook that Phichit knows holds most of Celestino's choreography from over the years. The man has discarded his suit jacket but is still dressed, cluing Phichit into the fact that he hasn't rested since practice earlier that day. 

Celestino drops his pencil and leans back in his chair, gesturing over at his skater, who crosses the room fast enough to be abnormal. "You said you had news?" Celestino asks. He looks up as Phichit pulls his phone out of his pocket; it's partially out of the bad habit he has and partially because he wants to show his coach the photographic evidence. 

"Victor and Yuuri are engaged," he starts. He opens Instagram and twists his phone around towards Celestino when Victor's post is pulled up again. "He said they're going to get married when he wins gold at the Final." 

"Ah," Celestino muses, smiling, "Well, I'll have to extend my congratulations to them tomorrow." 

Phichit locks his phone again and slides it back into his pocket. "Yeah. I was surprised. You and I both know how Yuuri is. All I ever heard him talk about at school was how much he admired Victor. Now, it's barely been a few months and he's skating to _Eros_ and engaged to his idol." He grins, strained, and Celestino frowns. There's a pause. Phichit lowers his smile as Celestino raises a hand to rest on the skater's hip before sliding up and around to his lower back, pulling him closer. 

"But?" 

Phichit bites his lip, focuses on the grip his mentor has on him and the heat radiating in his spine. "I'm worried. That this may be the thing that pushes him ahead of me." He stops when he hears Celestino hum, but the man is only listening, his eyes on Phichit's. "I don't want to be left behind. If his Eros ends up being stronger than mine." 

"And what is yours?" 

"Home. All of Thailand. My family, my friends, skating." His gaze jumps down to where his knees interlock with Celestino's. "You." The touch on his back is burning. 

His coach hums again, scooting back in his chair and pulling Phichit closer; he follows and climbs onto the man's lap, a place that holds him steadily and has become somewhere he can ground himself, even if it is only in luxurious hotel rooms in foreign countries. Phichit rests his hands at Celestino's sides, fingers lightly touching at the ribbed material of his turtleneck. 

One of Celestino's hands comes up to cup the side of Phichit's head, circling his ear in a gesture that amplifies sound, and pulls until their foreheads touch gently. They do this at the rink, when Phichit is already on the ice and Celestino needs to give him reminders, pointers, or words of encouragement and the sounds from the bustle of the rink are too loud. Phichit sighs quietly. 

"I have been your coach for a long time, Phichit. The only thing you've ever told me you wanted to do was skate. Bringing recognition to your country through your skating was just the added glory. And I have never seen you skate with anything less than passion." 

Phichit glances up and meet's Celestino's eyes, which are alight with a smile and a praise that warms the skater's stomach. He hesitates, though. "What if it isn't enough?" 

"Then my training will have been a waste of both our time and effort," his coach replies automatically. 

Phichit's breath hitches. He knows how much he's worked, he was there for all of it, after all. He has called home on too many occasions, greeting his family from the rink with wet eyes, worn out from practicing, training, his limbs shaking after pushing into quad after quad at Celestino's insistence. There has always been that desire to shock and awe so that he doesn't call with tears in his eyes and bruises on his ankles, doesn't have to face his coach at dawn with already-sore muscles and damp hair from his morning run. His coach, though, didn’t start out as part of that driving force. He had always been there, that nagging voice that told Phichit that he couldn't stop, but had developed into something similar to that voice from home, the one that knew he could do whatever it took to climb higher, just with more skating terminology. 

He doesn't remember when exactly it happened - when Celestino stopped being a coach he could blow off if he wanted to - but he knows now that Celestino is one of the last people he wants to disappoint. 

Phichit holds himself against the other man for a moment, breathing in the closeness, before leaning back and slumping in his spot across Celestino. "If I win gold, would you marry _me_?" He asks with a smile, half joking and half hoping that the challenge, the motivation to rise above whatever Yuuri Katsuki has made for himself, will be enough to push his skating over the edge. 

Celestino barks a laugh and taps Phichit's hip firmly. "Go to bed. I'll meet you there." 

The skater slides back off of his lap and to his feet, then leans over to drop a kiss to the corner of Celestino's lips. "Good night, Ciao Ciao." 


End file.
